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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631169">Chicken</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchinglikekerosene/pseuds/Catchinglikekerosene'>Catchinglikekerosene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Requests and Drabbles [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Open Heart (Visual Novels)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:35:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchinglikekerosene/pseuds/Catchinglikekerosene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Becca’s finally been moved out of the isolation room to her own private suite and Ethan treats her to a meal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ethan Ramsey/Main Character (Open Heart)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Requests and Drabbles [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chicken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to the anon who requested this fast fic sorry for not being fast at getting it out 😕. Buttttt we FINALLY got to try some of Ethan’s chicken!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been only six hours since Becca had been moved from the isolation room and into a more comfortable suite on the third floor's new wing. The events of the last day had taken its toll, and she was finally given the opportunity to rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now awake, she gazed out the long window pane, mindlessly watching each little star appear as the sun set over the late-autumn horizon. She needed a distraction from her relentless mind. Sitting here in the almost identical scene of the crime did nothing to keep the nightmares at bay, every bit of the room reminding her of what she’d suffered through, and the hospital was lacking in suitable recreations so blankly staring outside would have to do.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” a low baritone voice called from the entryway, pulling her out of her trance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca turned to him, a shell of a smile gracing her pale features. “Dr. Ramsey,” she acknowledged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoes clacked against the thin linoleum floor as he crossed the distance towards her bedside before taking his place in the padded metal chair beside her. “Did you get some sleep?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little.” Becca tilted her palm upwards, waiting for him to place his hand in hers. Without hesitation he laced their fingers together. “When’s dinner being served? I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>famished</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You slept through it,” he responded matter-of-factly. The deathly scowl she shot him caused a hearty chuckle to erupt from him. Ethan squeezed her hand, “What would you like?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca didn’t miss a beat, the words falling off her hungry lips faster than she meant them to, “Chicken parm and garlic knots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan shot her a look, wordlessly telling her the meal would be coming from the hospital cafeteria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned and mumbled, “Caesar wrap and fries will do.” Her tired purple eyes closed as her stomach growled. “Maybe a strawberry donut and vanilla ice cream,” she added, half joking and half hoping he’d bring her a small feast.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else?” Ethan asked with a raised brow. Trying to joke back he added, “Diabetes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of her lips turned upwards, “That’ll be all.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next evening Becca was enjoying a solitary moment watching reruns of Whose Line Is It Anyway now that her TV was up and running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire day was full of visitors, condolences and tests to make sure she was, in fact, alright. Her friends passed in and out throughout the day, and the only other doctor she saw from the diagnostics team was June who had a tempered argument with her about forced psych assessments. As a doctor, Becca knew she had to be admitted here for a while after a brush with death. But as a person, she didn’t want to be anywhere near Edenbrook. There was no comfort, the food was disgusting, and being a patient sucked. And, rationally, maybe June had a point about her fragile mental state… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a short knock on the metal plating of her door before it clicked open. Becca glanced at the analog clock on the wall - </span>
  <b>7:20pm</b>
  <span> - too early for final vitals of the evening and too late for dinner to be served. Come to think about it, the dinner cart didn’t come round at all today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of strong, warm sandalwood mixed with garlic and sweetness wafted through before he peered around the corner. Ethan was dressed down in dark blue jeans and a grey henley v-neck, all under a tan, wool trench coat she’s never seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dazy head rolled from one side of the pillow to the other, giving him her undivided attention. “That smells amazing. What is it?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan raised his playfully challenging brows to accompany his faint, lopsided smirk. He held the plastic wrapped package up and prompted, “Guess.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rubbed sleep from her eyes, turning the room black and focusing on the strong smells assaulting her nostrils. Becca took a deep breath in. “Tomatoes…” another breath. “Garlic…” and another. “Cheese.” She opened her brown eyes along with a pleased, shallow grin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan was at her side, removing the plastic bag to reveal a food container. “And?” he was moving the container in a circular motion near her nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca took her last deep breath, savoring the comforting warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His azure eyes luminous as he watched the pink tickling her cheeks, as her chest rose and fell without obstruction, as she bit her chapped lips. He watched as she came to her conclusion, her grin growing wider, pulling at the skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dark eyes lazily opened to meet his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed with contention, “Chicken.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan nodded, letting a short chortle escape him as he admired the pleased look on her face. “Glad your sense of smell is back.” He placed the container on the table and rolled it over to her. “Chicken Parmesan over angel hair and garlic baguette.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had to, Ethan would admit that he was elated to be presenting Becca her favorite meal with the pasta they had a heated debate over months ago. It was a small token of appreciation, yet it was all he could think to do given their teetering dynamic.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” she smiled, popping off the lid. She was already salivating at the thought of the medley of spices that wasn’t just black and white pepper like the bland patient food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There in front of her stood the most beautiful sight: a thin, crispy, deep brown chicken cutlet peppered with basil and Parmesan, resting beautifully on top of red saucy pasta, the mozzarella on top perfectly melted with a burnt bubble of deliciousness. Just looking at it had her moaning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s it from?” she inquired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My kitchen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw dropped, “You didn’t!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan reached over her, thumb grazing the container. “I can take it back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slapped him away and brought the dish closer to her chest. “Don’t you dare.” The scowl caused a chuckle from him. She held out her hand, waiting for the cutlery he was firmly grasping. “Gimme.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan placed a metal fork in her outstretched hand, laying a knife and spoon on the table. He pulled the chair closer to her, sat back into it with legs and arms crossed, and watched intently as she enjoyed the labors of his day off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca’s eyes closed with the first bite, savoring the explosion of beloved flavors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of sauce did you use?” she asked as she finally swallowed the first sample. She looked over at him with a twinkle in her eye, “Ragu or Prego?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan was quick to admonish, “Don’t insult me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since the incident, Becca let out a small breath of air that resembled a laugh. “This is amazing, Ethan. Thank you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear before it could fall into her dish. Their eyes met once more and, in the softest voice, he dared to ask, “How’re you feeling?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca rolled her eyes. Every second of every hour since the incident someone was asking her a variation of that same question; she’s come to loathe that string of words. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> that everyone felt sorry for her, treating her as if she was about to break at any moment.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Becca couldn’t make herself look at him. She could feel his sorry eyes burning into; she knew if she looked him in his deep sapphire eyes that she’d start crying, and if she started crying she’d ruin their perfectly distracting evening. So she just kept focus on the chicken he brought her, tearing off a piece of bread and dipped it in the red sauce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Popping the whole bit in her mouth she sarcastically responded, “Like a whole other woman.” </span>
</p>
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